


Herding Kittens

by celestialskiff



Series: Found Family [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Age Play, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Childhood Memories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Desperation, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Wetting, security blankets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma is having some trouble adjusting to letting people see her little side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a little AU. I wanted to write about Jemma post-season 1, but as season 2 hasn't aired yet, I'm not sure how Fitz's storyline will go. That's why I haven't mentioned Fitz in this story. SORRY FITZ. He will definitely be part of this story next time. I'm so exicted and nervous about the new season! I wrote this story to calm down.

1995

She wasn't allowed to bring Ben Bunny into the classroom, but she often still took him to school. She was seven now, and she shouldn't need to bring him everywhere, but somehow it was hard not to need him. Especially in school, which was bright and loud, and both scary and boring at the same time. 

It morning break, and cold outside, mist gathering at the edges of the playground. Most of Jemma's class had gone to the canteen to eat their snacks or get milk, but Jemma crept out to the cloakroom where their school-bags were kept during class time. It smelt musty in there, like moth-balls and industrial soap, and a little bit like eggs, but it was dark and people didn't come in very often. Jemma liked it better than the canteen. 

She took Ben out of her bag and cradled him in her arms, pressing her lips against his fuzzy ears. One of his ears had come off during the summer, but her Mum had stitched it back on. “I hate it here,” she said to him in her softest voice. “I thought I'd like it, but I hate it.” 

She rocked him gently in her arms. It helped to hold Ben. It was loud in school, and loud at home with her brothers running around and shouting at each other and getting shouted at by her parents and leaving their footballs and their hard plastic cars everywhere. Ben was the safest person she knew. 

Well, he was almost a person. 

She shut her eyes, pretending she was somewhere else. In a field in Narnia, with marigolds in the grass, and Ben would talk back to her, wise and cheeky, and he'd guide through the forests. 

She froze when she heard someone come in. It was two older girls. She didn't know their names. She froze, hoping the coats would hide her. 

“What class are you in?” one of the girl said, spotting her immediately. 

“Second,” Jemma whispered. 

“She's a baby,” the other girl said. “Don't let her bother you.” 

The first girl stood in front of her. She reached down, plucking Ben out of Jemma's arms. “He's cute,” she said. “What's his name?”

Her voice was friendly, but Jemma was suddenly terrified. What if she took Ben? What if she hid him, what if she cut him into pieces? Suddenly, without being able to stop it, Jemma was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I'm not going to take him,” the girl said. “God. Don't cry.” She pressed Ben back into Jemma's arms. 

Jemma clung to him, ashamed, trying not to sob. 

“I told you she was a baby,” the other girl said. 

The first girl was staring at Jemma, looking uncomfortable. “Let's go somewhere else.”

“Yeah.”

Before she left, she murmured, “Cheer up.”

Jemma rocked herself, hugging Ben to her chest. Why are you so stupid? she thought fiercely. Why are you so bad at everything? The girls hadn't wanted to do anything to her, and yet here she was, crying into her hands. 

She didn't have an answer. She just sat there, small and scared and ashamed. 

2014

It was all Skye's fault. 

Jemma rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She hadn't cried when Coulson and May had found them, but she felt like crying now. Why did she ever listen to Skye? Or let Skye convince her to do anything? That was stupid of her. 

So maybe it was her own fault. For being stupid. 

Coulson had told her to go into his room while he and May talked to Skye. It was scary to be split up like that. She supposed it was their strategy, like divide and conquer, except with two scared girls instead of armies. Anyway, it was working. Jemma sat down on the edge of Coulson's bed, her stomach clenching. 

She could see her dummy on Coulson's bedside cabinet. She'd left it there this morning. She picked it up, running her fingers over the plastic edge. It was one of her favourites, with Captain American's shield on it. Coulson had given it to her. She wanted to suck it really badly, but she wasn't sure she should. What if Coulson and May didn't want her to have it? What if bad girls didn't deserve comfort? 

Jemma rubbed her face. An angry voice in the back of her head snapped at her. You're a grown up, it said. You can't possibly want a dummy. And you're too old to be scared of Coulson. 

Unfortunately, the voice just made her feel guilty. It didn't stop her from being anxious, or from wanting her dummy. She decided she could suck it just a little. Maybe Coulson wouldn't notice. She grabbed it from the table and popped it in her mouth, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. 

It helped soothe her. She felt little and ashamed. She shouldn't have run off with Skye like that. Even if they'd been adults, it was stupid to leave the base. She needed to be more responsible. It wasn't fair on Coulson, her being little and getting into trouble. Her eyes welled up again, and she sniffled, rubbing at them. 

It was hard to cry and suck her dummy at the same time. She sucked hard on it, trying to hold back the tears. She wanted to go and hide somewhere, maybe in the cupboard, and pretend she didn't exist. Or she wanted to go and take a shower and then work on something really complex in the lab, until her mind was just numbers and genetic sequences, and she forgot all about feeling little. 

But Coulson had told her to stay here. She rested her chin on her knees. She needed to go to the toilet. If she were Skye, she'd take what he'd said literally and sit here until she wet her knickers. But she wasn't Skye, she was more sensible than that, and she knew Coulson would want her to go to the toilet if she needed to. That was the responsible thing to do. 

That was probably what Coulson would want, right? She wasn't feeling very sure of herself. She swung her legs off the bed anyway, and went into Coulson's en suite. After using the toilet, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, no make-up, and her round dummy emphasised the roundness of her eyes. She still looked grown-up, a woman playing at being something she wasn't, and she dropped her eyes, ashamed. 

Her mind was still racing. What if Coulson saw her like that, too? What if he came in and laughed? She curled up on her side at the end of the bed. She wanted to pull her dummy out, to sit up straight and have an adult conversation with Coulson, but she couldn't make herself. She didn't know what she'd say. 

It's all Skye's fault, she thought again. Skye had said it would be no big deal to sneak out of the base. Skye had said no one would notice. Skye had said it would be fun. Skye had been in high-spirits all day, and it had been nice. She and Jemma hadn't been having much fun recently. No one had. Even May seemed to be caught up by Skye's mood, just rolling her eyes at Skye when she climbed on the table, not telling her off. Skye had been laughing, cheeks flushed and happy. Jemma had wanted to be like Skye, to be brave and daring and badly behaved, and to make people laugh. 

But outside the base it had just been empty, hidden as it was in a bleak landscape. The sky had seemed huge, oppressive. It wasn't at all like the times May had taken them out for runs in the crisp morning air. Skye had quickly reached for Jemma's hand, her eyes growing big. And Jemma hadn't known what to do without Skye leading the way. 

They'd crept back after only half an hour. Coulson had looked like he was going to hug them. “We were so worried,” he'd said. But May had been standing behind him, silent, glaring, and she'd put her hand on his arm, and his tone had become stern rather than relieved. 

Skye said May wasn't scary, but she was wrong. What if May was the one who came in to shout at her? Jemma sucked her dummy harder. She didn't know if she could cope with that. She'd feel small in front of Coulson, but she'd be smaller with May. All her words would vanish. 

When the door opened, she found she couldn't look up. Get a grip, a voice said angrily, but she stayed still and silent, folded in on herself, like she was a tiny animal that wouldn't be spotted if she just froze. Then the bed dipped next to her, and she felt a gentle hand brushing back her hair. 

“May is with Skye. She told us it was all her fault.” 

Jemma leant into the touch. For a moment, she didn't process the words. She just allowed the feeling of comfort to wash over her. Then she thought it didn't seem fair to blame Skye completely. Though it hadn't been her own idea. 

Coulson stroked her cheek. “What do you have to say for yourself?” His fingers were gentle, but his voice was firm. 

Jemma squirmed anxiously. “Shouldn't have let Skye go,” she said, letting them dummy fall out of her mouth. She was surprised by how small and choked her voice sounded. 

“Can you sit up for me, please?” Coulson said.

She did, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. Coulson looked into her eyes. “It's not your responsibility to look after Skye. That's a big job, and it's not yours. But can you think of something you could have done?”

Jemma kind of felt like it was everyone's job to look after Skye, because Skye needed so much looking after, but she was glad Coulson had said that. She replied, “I shouldn't have gone.” 

Coulson nodded. “Yes. You're responsible for your own decisions.”

He didn't look really angry, and he wasn't shouting. She'd thought that would make her feel bigger, more competent, but instead she felt just as little as ever. Coulson's gentle voice made her want to crawl into his lap. 

“Can you think of anything else you could have done?”

“Um.” Jemma looked at her hands. “I could have told you what Skye was planning?”

“You could have done that,” Coulson agreed. “Because it wasn't safe at all for you to leave the base, not as my agents, and especially not as my little girls. And you both should be able to understand that.” 

Jemma felt tears again. Coulson sounded so disappointed. And worse: he was right. They never left the base without informing him, even when they were adults. Security was tight. She was his agent, and she should be able to follow his rules. Maybe he wouldn't want her to be his little girl any more if it impacted on her work like this? Maybe she shouldn't do this any more, anyway. She should just be a grown-up like everyone else. 

She rubbed at her nose, trying to hold back the tears. She felt very alone. 

“Do you want a hug?” Coulson said gently. 

Jemma nodded at once. She couldn't stop herself from wanting that. Coulson opened his arm to her, and she folded herself onto his lap, drawing her knees up to her chest so his hug could contain all of her. She loved how easily she fit against him: she felt like she belonged, just like Skye did. He took her dummy from where she'd dropped it on the bed, and popped it into her mouth. She sighed through her nose, sucking slowly. 

He wiped her eyes with his sleeve. “It's OK, sweetheart,” he murmured. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. His shirt smelt comforting: like cloves, and toothpaste, and hugs. 

He stroked her back. “Melinda and I have decided that we've been letting you and Skye have too much responsibility. You're clearly too little to make good decisions.”

Jemma wasn't sure what that meant. She'd feared Coulson would tell her to get dressed and get back to work, and if anything, this sounded like the opposite of that. But snuggled up in Coulson's arms, she felt small and safe, and she was willing to do anything to allow that feeling to continue. She wanted Coulson to be happy with her. She nodded against his shirt, meaning she agreed, she agreed with anything he said. 

He kissed the top of her head. “And to start with, I think you need a nap.” 

Skye was the one who had naps, not Jemma. But a nap was hardly the worst thing that could happen, so Jemma nodded again. 

“I'm going to put you down now,” he said softly, “And I'll need you to get changed for bed.” 

He always warned Skye before he put her down, because sometimes she'd whimper or grab for him, but he didn't normally warn Jemma. She slid off his lap, and he went to the cupboard. He got out her t-shirt, and a pair of sleep shorts, and...

Jemma stared at the package of pull-ups. “But those are for Skye.” 

“These are for anyone who needs them. And right now, I think you do,” Coulson said, looking at her carefully. She felt her heart racing, as those he was holding out a bomb. She bit at her lap. She knew if she said, 'No, I won't wear them,' or 'No, I'm scared', he'd talk about it with her. He wouldn't make her do anything that was too much. 

But she didn't say no. She couldn't bring herself to say no. She looked between Coulson and the package warily. She'd thought about pull-ups before. Skye wore them, and she always seemed calm and safe when she was in them. In a very small, secret part of herself, Jemma was a little jealous. 

She'd never thought she'd wear them. That was going too far. It was OK to imagine it sometimes. Nobody had to know about that. It was different to admit it out loud. 

She stared very hard at her lap, and nodded once. 

“Good girl,” Coulson said. He took one of the pull-ups out, and handed it to her. It was purple, with a butterfly on it. It was kind of cute. Jemma squeezed it between her fingers. Her heart felt light and fluttery. 

He didn't offer to help her undress—he helped Skye, but she guessed he still thought she was big enough to do this on her own. He left the room for a minute while she was changing, telling her he'd be back very soon. She tugged the pull-up on, up over her hips, before she could lose her nerve. She was glad Coulson wasn't watching. She was blushing already, all by herself. The pull-up felt strange between her legs, thicker and wider than any normal underwear, but it wasn't bulky like a nappy. She quickly pulled the shorts on over it. 

She popped her dummy back in her mouth and slid her feet under the covers, so when Coulson came back, she'd look ready for her nap. She wanted to be obedient. She wanted to make Coulson feel proud of her. 

When Coulson returned, he was carrying a bottle. A baby's bottle, like Skye's, half full of apple-juice, with flowers printed on the sides. She'd never had a bottle before, either. She was too big, she'd never asked for one. She stared at it, the dummy going still between her lips. Had Coulson known she'd wanted it? 

This isn't a punishment, Jemma thought. This is me getting all the things I was too embarrassed to talk about. Still, she wanted to tell him she was too big for it. She wanted to get up out of bed and put her clothes on and be a grown-up. 

And at the same time, that was the last thing she wanted. She gripped the bed-covers, and sucked her dummy, and watched Coulson. He settled down beside her, on top of the covers, and she put her head in his lap when he asked her to. She'd seen Skye do that a hundred times, but she'd never done it herself. It felt strange to see Coulson looking down at her, his face tender, like when he looked at Skye. He hooked his fingers around the dummy and eased it out of her mouth. She looked up at him, quiet, unblinking, and opened her lips so he could guide the bottle into her mouth. 

It was smaller than her dummy, and felt strange. She licked it tentatively, her eyes on Coulson's face. He smoothed her hair back. “Don't look so worried,” he said. “This is just to make you relaxed, so you're tired enough to go to sleep. You've had a big day, you need a little rest so you don't get grumpy.” 

Jemma licked the bottle again, and he angled it further upwards. This time, a little trickle of apple-juice made its way into her mouth. It felt OK. She began to suck, slowly, figuring out the rhythm of the bottle against her tongue. 

“Good,” Coulson said, “You're doing so well,” as though she was doing something really important and not just sucking a bottle. But his voice was soothing, and she knew he was trying to make her calm, even though everything was strange to her: the bottle, the pull-up. And it was sort of working. She'd felt so little, when they'd got back to the compound, when she'd realised how much trouble they were in. And now he was treating her exactly like she felt: as though she was too little to make decisions about anything other than whether or not to suck her bottle. She felt her heart slow down, her stomach relax. Coulson was here, and he cared about her, and she was safe. 

By the time the juice was mostly gone, her eyes were drifting shut. Coulson replaced the bottle with her dummy. “I'll be back in forty minutes,” he said, kissing her temple. She felt heavy, warm among the pillows, her mouth moving slowly, tasting of apple-juice. She didn't think she'd sleep, she almost never slept during the day, but the next thing she knew she was waking up, a little too hot, nestled between the pillows. 

Her dummy had fallen out, and she groped for it and slipped it back into her mouth. She didn't think she'd slept for long, but she felt safe and comfortable. She had to pee again, though, a warm heaviness in her stomach. She slid her hand down between her thighs, feeling the thickness of the pull-up. She realised that if she were Skye, she'd probably just end up wetting. She felt hot all over at that thought, embarrassed. It was one thing to put on a pull-up and another thing entirely to use it. 

She probably could have waited a while, but that thought made her sit up straight away and rush to the bathroom. For a moment, she thought about taking the pull-up off, wadding it up and sticking it in the bin, but Coulson hadn't told her she could, and she didn't want to make him cross. Wearing it didn't make her feel bad, anyway. It almost felt good, and that was a bit scary. 

“There you are,” Coulson said, when she came out of the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you wash your hands?”

She was a bit offended by that question, because it was Skye who forgot to do things like that, not her. But she nodded. “OK,” Coulson stood up. “Skye's playing in the living room. Do you feel ready to come out?”

Jemma nodded. He didn't ask her if she wanted to get dressed. She felt like this outfit made her look little, the t-shirt with Bambi on it, the little shorts, but she supposed that wasn't wrong. He picked up her dummy from where she'd left it, and held out his other hand to her. 

His fingers were comforting in hers, warm and familiar. 

Skye was sitting on the floor in the living room. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She had colouring pencils and crayons on the floor beside her, and a drawing pad, but she wasn't drawing. She was sucking her thumb, her blanket wrapped around her fist. She was wearing a thigh-length t-shirt, but underneath that, she just had a nappy. Jemma could see it, the soft white bulk. Skye took her thumb out of her mouth when she saw Jemma, peeking up at her through her hair. 

“I'm sorry I got you into trouble,” she said. 

Jemma shrugged. She wondered, suddenly, if her pull-up was as obvious as Skye's nappy. She hoped not. “It was my fault too,” she said. Her tiger, Jean-Baptiste, was on the sofa where she'd left, and so was Ben Bunny. She was glad to see them. She hadn't felt ready to ask Coulson for them. 

She gathered them up in her arms, and sat down on the floor next to Skye, Jean-Baptiste wedged between them. 

“I'll leave you girls to play for a little while,” Coulson said. “I'll be in the next room.”

“Stay with us,” Skye said, rubbing the edge of her blanket over her cheek. 

“I'll hear you right away,” Coulson replied, which wasn't really answer. 

“Did you get in trouble?” Skye asked softly, as he left. Jemma thought Coulson could probably hear them from the next room, like he'd said, but that was OK. 

“I don't know.” Jemma lowered her voice. “I'm... Coulson gave me a bottle. And I'm wearing a pull-up.” It was hard to say that out loud, but it was the kind of thing she could admit to Skye. 

“Oh.” Skye played with Jean-Baptiste's paw. “They said I have too much responsibility, and that's why I'm behaving badly.”

“That's pretty much what Coulson said to me,” Jemma said. She looked at Skye's long legs. “Is that why you're wearing a diaper?” She'd seen Skye wearing nappies before, but not usually during the day. 

Skye nodded. “Are you sure you're not mad at me?”

“I'm not,” Jemma said, smiling at Skye's small voice. It was impossible to be cross with Skye for long. “I didn't have to go with you, did I?”

“I guess not,” Skye said. 

Jemma leant her head on Skye's shoulder. Skye was warm, and smelt like clean sheets. Jemma felt safe next to her. She was safest in Coulson's arms, or May's, but she felt safe with Skye too, in a different way. She could be honest with Skye and she knew Skye would understand. Skye knew what it was like to feel little. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Skye nodded. 

“I liked the bottle. The pull-up... I don't know yet.” 

“Bottles are nice,” Skye said. She stroked her blanket between her fingers. “Bottles make me feel safe. The pull-ups too, but different.”

“I was afraid they'd tell us we weren't allowed to be little any more,” Jemma said, in a rush. 

“Me too. But they've done the opposite, kind of.”

“It's better. I wish...” Jemma squirmed nervously. “I wish it wasn't, I wish being more little wasn't what I wanted, but...”

“It's OK,” Skye said gently. “We love you just the way you are.” 

She leant over and grabbed one of the crayons, and started scribbling on the paper. Jemma could see that her ears were flushed, and she wanted to give Skye a hug and tell her she didn't have to be embarrassed either. She patted Skye's back and said, “Us too, Skye,” very softly, before grabbing a pencil of her own and drawing some little flowers next to Skye's scribbles. 

Coulson came back to check on them regularly, making it clear he didn't trust them to be by themselves for long. Sometimes he came in with healthy snacks like carrot sticks or raisins, or sometimes he sat with them a while. She and Skye designed a castle together on the paper, creating rooms full of different things like dresses and kittens, and drawing turrets, and putting dragons in the dungeons. 

Jemma was just adding some teeth to the dragon's mouth when she heard someone come in. She assumed it was Coulson, but suddenly Skye stood up, murmuring, “Mommy!” and rushing over to May.

She didn't instantly wrap her arms around May like she sometimes did, but stood next to her, shoulders hunched, peeking at her nervously. Her t-shirt had ridden up, showing the white shape of her nappy. 

May put her arm around Skye's shoulders, and Skye nuzzled into May's side. Jemma kept on drawing. She hadn't seen May since she'd got back, and she was worried May was still cross with her. May was scarier than Coulson. Jemma also wished she was brave enough to demand affection from May and Coulson the way Skye did. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

“No,” May said. “But don't do it again.”

Skye shook her head, sticking her thumb into her mouth. “I'll be good forever,” she said indistinctly. 

May kissed her forehead. “I don't believe you.” 

Coulson came through, and he and May chatted briefly. He was going to do some work. Jemma felt an urge to go with him. She thought she could just sit in his office, not say anything. Maybe do her own work. She wouldn't be a distraction, and she'd fell safe, sitting near him. 

But she didn't ask, and then he was gone. Coulson had left her dummy on the table by the couch, and Jemma grabbed it now, popping it into her mouth. She put her pencils down and hugged Ben and Jean-Baptiste to her chest. 

May sat down on the floor next to her. “What are you drawing?” she asked. 

“We're making a castle,” Skye said. 

May looked at their pages of drawings, which suddenly seemed stupid to Jemma, pathetic and childish. She wanted to spit her dummy out and get up, but somehow that seemed even more embarrassing than just staying still. If she spat it out, that would draw even more attention to it. 

May stroked Jemma's cheek, just once. Her fingers were light and cool. Jemma was shy of May, but, at the same time, she trusted her. A couple of days ago, she'd woken tearful and shaking, and had crept into May's room, longing for comfort and protection. May had lifted the bed-covers up for her, and Jemma had crawled in beside her. May hadn't said a word, just put her arms around Jemma, her breath warm on Jemma's neck. 

“How are you feeling?” May asked now, voice gentle. She really didn't sound cross any more, and Jemma risked peeking up at her. 

She took her dummy out so she could answer, but then there was nothing she could say, except, “OK.” 

Jemma could feel Skye's eyes on her too. She pressed her cheek against Jean-Baptiste's furry head. She felt shaky suddenly, like she wanted to cry all over again, except she should be done crying by now. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, dropping the tiger and her dummy on the floor. May and Skye let her go. As she left the room, she saw Skye snuggling up against May's side. That made her throat ache, somehow. They wouldn't miss her. Skye would just get more hugs. 

She didn't have to pee, but in the bathroom she pulled her shorts off, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her pull-up was tight to her skin, cute but obviously childish. It matched her shirt. For a moment, she almost felt like she liked it. What if she wet it, the way Skye did? Melinda would probably change it for her. She'd be gentle, kind. She'd understand that Jemma was little and needed her care... 

Then her reflection in the mirror seemed to change, and Jemma was a grown woman in a child's nappy and Bambi t-shirt, trying to look younger than her years. She was too tall and gawky, her breasts too big, her lips too small. She was getting lines on her forehead already. She'd look like her mother in a couple of years, and maybe that was OK, because her mother was pretty, but on the other hand, her mother was a grown-up, and she couldn't handle being an adult when she felt so little. 

You're not Peter Pan, she thought, cross with herself. May and Coulson and Skye told her it was OK to feel this way. They said they loved her just the way she was... 

And yet, she couldn't believe it. When she looked in the mirror, she could only see a failure. She felt so alone. 

She stripped off the pull-up, and shoved it into the bin. She pulled her shorts back up, and they felt too lose without underwear, and she missed the warmth of the pull-up against her skin. 

“Grow up, Jemma,” she said aloud, but her voice caught on the words, and she crumpled down onto the floor. She didn't try to stop the tears this time. She hid her face against her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. 

She knew she could go back into the living room and cuddle with Skye and Melinda, and everything would be OK. Or she could go into her bedroom and get dressed in proper clothes, and go to the lab. Coulson would probably come and talk to her about how she was feeling, but no one would be angry. 

And yet, she couldn't make herself do either thing. She could only sit on the floor, cold, stuck, crying against her knees. I feel so little, she thought, and realised it was true. She did. Like a small child, she didn't know what she wanted, she only knew she was sad, and scared, and she wanted someone to fix it. And she couldn't stop crying until they did. 

“Jemma, May wants to know if you're...” Skye's voice began, and then the door opened. Jemma didn't look up, but she knew Skye was staring at her. 

She wished she could stop crying. “Want Mommy,” she murmured. It was only after she'd said it that she realised only Skye called May and Coulson Mommy and Daddy, but somehow the word felt right in her mouth. “Mommy,” she murmured softly into her hands. It wasn't a word she'd grown up with. _Mum_ , she said to her own mother. It felt good to name May _Mommy_. A Mommy was someone who could fix anything. 

She wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking herself. She tried to make her breathing even, but it was rushed and choked. Mommy, she thought. And there was a mocking voice in her head saying, She won't want you. She only wants Skye. You're a loser, you're a failure, no one wants you. 

And then May was beside her, sitting on the cold bathroom floor. She wrapped warm arms around Jemma's shoulders. 

“You're cold, sweetie,” May said, and asked Skye to get a blanket from the bedroom. 

I'm cold, Jemma thought. Maybe that's all I'm sad about, and she pressed into May's warmth as though that could save her from everything. 

“What are you so upset about, hmm?” May asked, but she didn't seem to expect an answer. She gathered Jemma onto her lap, and kissed her temple. Jemma pressed her face into May's breast. She wanted to stop crying, but she couldn't. The tears kept coming. She felt so small, so lost, like she was breaking apart. And yet, they were being so kind to her. Everyone was. It didn't make any sense. 

“It's not very comfortable down here, is it? Let's go into the living room again.” May kept her arms around Jemma as she helped her to her feet. Skye trailed after them, carrying the blanket. 

May set Jemma onto her lap again, on the couch, and pulled the blanket around them both. Skye got Ben Bunny from the floor, and pressed him into Jemma's arms, before curling up beside them. 

None of them said anything. May held Jemma, rocking her gently, and Skye sat next to them, the blanket over her knees. Jemma could only hear her own breathing, harsh and hoarse, and the sound of May's heart under her ear. After a long time, she murmured very faintly, “Mommy.”

“Jemma,” May said back to her, stroking her hair. “You've been having some very difficult feelings lately, haven't you?”

It was true. Since the accident, since everything with Hydra, she had been having a hard time, waking up at night feeling bruised and frightened, and when she was little, everything seemed to upset her. 

“It's hard,” she whispered. 

“I know,” May said. “I've got you.” 

Jemma hugged Ben close, as close as she could. He smelt like home somehow, in a way she couldn't explain. He smelt like home more than anywhere she'd ever described as “home” had done. “I just...” Jemma didn't know how to explain. She fisted her hand in May's t-shirt, as though she was afraid May would run away. “I just feel... really little.” 

She felt Skye take her other hand, and squeeze it. 

“That's OK,” May said. “It's OK to be little.”

“I don't... I don't feel like it is,” Jemma said into Ben's ears.

“I know,” May said. “But you will.” 

She didn't say anything else, but that seemed to be enough. Jemma shut her eyes, leaning into May. She felt so safe under the blanket, surrounded by their warmth. She could hear the liquid sound of Skye's thumb moving in her mouth, and the soft sound of May's breath, and her heart. She felt suspended in warmth. Maybe they could stay like this forever. 

She wasn't sure how much later it was when Coulson came in. “It's my girls,” he said, and sat beside May. 

“You don't dress these kids warmly enough,” she said to him. “Jemma was cold.” 

“Poor Jemma,” Coulson said, and reached over to pat her head. “Should we have pizza for dinner?”

Skye perked up, smiling. “Yes, we should.”

“You spoil them,” May said. 

Skye and Coulson got up to figure out pizza toppings, but Jemma stayed right where she was. “Mommy,” she said softly, trying out the word in her mouth. “Where's my dummy?”

“It's right here,” Melinda said, giving it to her, not making a big deal out of anything. Jemma popped it into her mouth, sucking slowly. She felt a little dizzy, worn-out from crying. But she knew after dinner, May or Coulson would put her to bed. They might even give her a bottle. And she'd fall asleep next to Skye, listening to her slow breaths, and when she woke up, she wouldn't be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's been having some anxiety.

Jemma woke up because Skye crawled into bed next to her. 

“You were having a bad dream,” Skye whispered into her ear. “Do you want me to get Mommy?”

Jemma blinked. Her head felt heavy and sore. The room was lit only by moonlight: May was asleep in the centre of the double bed; Jemma and Skye were in the little bed next to it. 

She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming. 

“I'm fine,” she said. 

“You woke me up.” Skye snuggled against Jemma, tucking her head into Jemma's neck, her knees on Jemma's thigh. Skye was like a puppy when she hugged you, sometimes: she was all enthusiasm, but no finesse. 

“I don't remember.” Jemma's eyes were heavy. She shut them again, leaning into Skye. 

“That's OK then.” Skye yawned.

Skye was very warm. She smelt faintly musky, and Jemma thought that was because she'd wet her diaper. It wasn't a bad smell: it was fresh, clean even, but it was strangely intimate. Jemma wriggled her toes. She had to pee too, just a little, but she thought she could get back to sleep. 

She did: she woke in sunlight, and her head ached even more. Skye was still pressed around her, a tangle of limbs. She sat up, and Skye clung to her: “Cuddle,” she said indistinctly. 

Jemma shoved her. She was too hot, and her mouth was dry and her bladder throbbed. She didn't want to cuddle. Skye didn't move, and Jemma shoved her again. This time, Skye squeaked, let go, and almost fell onto the floor. 

Jemma climbed out over her. 

She locked herself into the bathroom. She took her clothes off, even the stupid pull-up May had made her wear, and turned the shower on. She sat underneath it, turning her face into the warm water. She emptied her bladder sitting like that, the yellow washing down the drain. She felt like crying, and she didn't know why. 

She sat for a long time, and eventually her head stopped hurting quite so much. 

She wasn't mad at Skye. Her Mum had called last night, and she'd had to talk to her. She'd been on the sofa, between Skye and Leo, and her phone had rung and rung, until she'd pulled it out and answered it. She'd felt little and safe, sitting with them, watching TV, and suddenly she felt anxious, her stomach tight. She was holding her pacifier in her hand, and she wanted to throw it away, but at the same time she wanted to cling to it. 

Her Mum asked her a lot of questions, and Jemma didn't know the answer to any of them. She couldn't remember what lies she'd told, about her job, about SHIELD. Then her Mum had said, “You know, it's my birthday. Your brothers both came over.” 

Jemma held the phone tight in her hand. “Oh.” She didn't know what to say. She hadn't meant to forget. “I'm sorry.”

“Just wish me happy birthday, darling.”

Jemma bit her lip. “Yes, Mum. Happy birthday.”

A pause. Jemma couldn't help picturing her Mum in the dining room, a pile of birthday cards in front of her, weighing up who had given her the most thoughtful present. “There's a load of rubbish in your old room. I'm going to throw it out,” her Mum said suddenly. 

Jemma was surprised it wasn't already gone. “I'd like to go through it first.” 

“Well, you're never home. Are you coming back for Christmas?”

“I don't know,” Jemma said, honestly. Even if she got time off, even if she wasn't at SHIELD... Well, she'd rather spend Christmas with Fitz's Mum, or go somewhere with Skye. Or maybe she'd be with Phil and May. She thought about her old room: her Mum had painted the walls neutral yellow long ago, and taken away her books and pictures. There were still folders in her desk drawers, mostly from school, and a shoebox in the bottom drawer with... with the things that had made her feel safe. 

She told her Mum about it: “There's a box in the desk. Can you send it to me?”

Her Mum clicked her tongue. “It costs a lot of money to send stuff to the US.”

Jemma knew her parents could afford it. But she said, “I'll forward you the cost of postage.” 

“No, I'll send it.” There was a long pause. “I can't understand why they don't let you home for Christmas. Americans! They're barbaric...” 

“Yes, Mum,” Jemma said, and imagined her box on a landfill. She imagined her whole self on a landfill. 

Now, sitting under the shower, she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, trying to make the feelings go away. Maybe they'd have loved her if she hadn't felt so little... Maybe they'd have loved her if she hadn't gone away to uni so young... Maybe they'd have loved her if she'd been another boy... 

It doesn't matter, Jemma thought. Skye loves you. May loves you. It's OK. 

She felt bad, suddenly, for shoving Skye. She switched off the water, and stood up. Her head felt light, her legs shaky. 

Skye was sitting at May's feet, by the bed, wearing just a diaper and a t-shirt. May was fixing her hair. 

“There you are,” May said. “Sit down, I'll brush you hair next.” 

“Are you OK, Skye?” Jemma asked. 

Skye blinked up at her, head tilted to one side. “I'm fine.” 

Jemma nodded. Maybe Skye'd forgotten about being shoved. Anyway, she never held a grudge. Jemma sat down next to her at May's feet, and leant against Skye's side. She tugged her towel tight around herself. She hoped May would pick her clothes for today. 

She felt the brush gently going through her hair, May smoothing out the tangles. Her hair wasn't long enough to tie up the way Skye's was, but May brushed it neatly and straightened her parting. Jemma sighed, leaning into May's fingers. 

May picked out some black pants and a crisp shirt for Jemma. “Work until lunch time,” she said. “There's nothing too urgent.” 

“What are we doing after lunch?” Jemma asked. She watched as Skye put on a pull-up under her jeans. Skye felt better with some protection even when she wasn't little. 

“We'll see,” was all May would say. They ate breakfast with Fitz and Phil, and everything felt OK until something about Fitz's hand on his cup made her think of her Mum, and suddenly her head throbbed again. 

Coulson found her taking pain-killers at the sink. “Are you OK? Do you need to lie down?”

Jemma shook her head, but that made it hurt more. She leant it against her palm. “I'm fine. I'll be fine.” 

He touched her forehead, as though checking her for a fever. “Are you sure? We were going to take you kids out this afternoon, but if you need a rest...”

She didn't. She didn't want him to coddle her right now—the only thing that would help was work. She knew she'd breathe more easily once she was in the lab. 

Except she'd barely settled at her desk before there was an emergency, and she spent the afternoon examining corpses and cleaning wounds. The day blurred into the next, and she almost forgot what she'd been upset about. 

*

“I want to go out,” Fitz said. 

Jemma was lying on her stomach in the living room. They were supposed to be having a weekend off. She burrowed her head into the cushion. She didn't feel like she wanted to move. 

Skye was curled up in Coulson's lap. She looked up at him and murmured something incomprehensible around the thumb in her mouth. 

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” he reminded her. 

“We should go see cartoons.” Skye nuzzled into his neck, popping the thumb back into her mouth. 

“The movies?” Coulson looked at Leo. 

Jemma shut her eyes. She guessed she could handle going to the cinema. It would be better than being left here by herself. May had said she was going to be working until the evening, so Jemma wouldn't even have her. 

Leo and Skye discussed what movie to see. Jemma shut her eyes. Suddenly she felt the couch dip next to her, and Coulson's hand on her back. “Are you OK?” 

Jemma blinked up at him. Her hair had fallen into her face. “Uh-huh.” 

“Tired?” 

She rubbed her eyes. She didn't want him to think she was tired and make her stay home. “Need my dummy,” she said, pulling herself up. 

Coulson smiled, and found one for her on the coffee table. It was yellow, and didn't really go with her pink shirt, but she guessed that was OK. 

“I like dragons.” Skye was pouting. 

“The first one was stupid. I want to see the new 300 movie.” Leo fiddled with some of the Lego on the floor. 

“I think that might be a bit scary.” Coulson's arm was around Jemma's shoulders, and with his other hand he was looking up times on his phone. “Those movies aren't showing for a few hours. Would you guys like to see Maleficent?”

Jemma didn't really care. “The one with the witch?” Leo said. “OK.” 

“Is there a dragon?” Skye rubbed the edge of her blanket against her cheek. 

“Why don't we find out?” Coulson stood up. “We can make the next showing if we hurry.”

Coulson and Skye went into the bedroom so Coulson could check Skye's diaper. Jemma followed because she wanted to say good-bye to Ben. She curled up on the bed with him, her eyes half-open as she watched Coulson help Skye out of her sweats. 

Skye lay on the bed, cuddling her blanket and chatting with Coulson. She was so open and trusting. Jemma wondered how she could be so relaxed while Coulson helped her with something so intimate. It seemed scary. 

“Can I bring my blanket?” Skye gestured to her elephant, “And Ada Lovelace?” 

“I think they might get lost at the cinema, don't you?” Coulson secured the tapes on Skye's fresh diaper. 

She sat up and pulled on her pants. “I'd look after them.”

“ Ada wants to stay here with Ben.” Coulson looked over at Jemma for support. 

Jemma wanted to ask if Ben could come too, but she guessed she should back up Coulson. “They can play games together,” she said. “Chess.” 

“What if we put my blanket in the diaper bag? Then I'll know it's there if I need it?” 

Coulson smiled down at Skye, smoothing back her hair. “That sounds like a good compromise.” 

Jemma rubbed Ben's ear against her lips. She wanted Coulson to look at her like that. As if he could sense it, he asked her, “Are you wearing a pull-up, sweetheart?”

She shook her head. 

“You need to put one on. Just in case.”

Jemma never had accidents. Or not really. Not big ones, like Skye. But Coulson and May had been insisting she wear pull-ups a lot lately. “I don't need it,” she said. 

“It's not up for debate.” Coulson was using his firm voice. 

She huffed and took the pull-up he handed to her. Skye carefully set up Ada Lovelace and Ben on the pillow so they were looking at one another. Coulson folded up Skye's blanket and put it in the bag, and Jemma saw him check to make sure one of her dummies was in there, too. 

Leo pretty much always got to sit up front with Coulson. Jemma and Skye sat in the back while Coulson tied Leo's shoes for him. He could do it himself, but his hands were still wobbly since the accident, and Jemma thought he liked Coulson taking care of him like that, as well. 

Skye curled up against her. “Do you think Ada really knows how to play chess?”

“Of course she does, she's very smart. Ben isn't that good, she'll have to go easy on him.” 

Jemma looked out the window: it was a wet day, the streets cool and windswept. It made her think of being in the car with her brothers, one on either side of her. She was always made to sit in the middle so they wouldn't fight, but it just meant they poked her constantly and she ended up feeling sore and sick. 

They were a little late for the film, and Leo and Skye both wanted to buy snacks. Jemma didn't really care, but she asked for a Coke since the others were getting something. She kind of needed to go to the bathroom, but they were rushing to find their screen, and it didn't seem worth asking. She could hold it. 

She regretted buying the Coke though. Chocolate might have been better. Leo was eating M & Ms and Skye was crunching through some popcorn, and even Coulson had some chocolate. Jemma leant against him. She and Skye were sitting on either side of him, with Leo on Skye's other side. 

Coulson touched her cheek. “You OK?”

Now would've been the perfect time to ask for the bathroom, but the previews were starting and Jemma didn't want to be any trouble. She nodded and took a big sip of her Coke. She felt tired, but she knew the caffeine would probably begin to make her jittery. There were kids around them, whispering and talking, and they weren't quite drowned out by the noises of the movie. 

Jemma drank about half her coke without really thinking about it. Then Skye whispered she was thirsty, and Jemma passed it to her and didn't ask for it back. She heard Leo saying something to Skye, and Skye giggling in response. Jemma's tummy hurt, low down, and it was hard to focus. She shifted so she as sitting on one of her legs, and the pressure helped. 

The movie was good, but it was hard to concentrate. Jemma sighed. She always found the cinema a bit stressful, because she often ended up needing to pee. She wasn't sure what it was about sitting in there, but it was always difficult, especially when she was surrounded by people. She wished she'd been able to stay home with Coulson and May and just cuddle. 

She squirmed and looked over at Coulson. He seemed to be focusing on the movie. Skye was leaning against him, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes fixed on the screen. 

The princess in the story had travelled to fairyland. Fairyland was really pretty, but Jemma couldn't help wriggling some more. She wondered when the movie would be over. Her bladder ached and she wanted to suck her dummy to comfort herself a little. She wished Coulson was cuddling her instead of Skye. 

Suddenly she her tummy clenched, and she thought she could feel a surge of dampness in her pull-up. She pressed her hand against her crotch. She didn't want to have an accident, not like this. She squeezed down hard, and stood up. Her legs were shaky. 

“Jemma, are you OK?” Coulson asked. 

“Gotta go...” she began but she couldn't finish the sentence. She gave her crotch another squeeze and scrambled past Coulson, and Skye, and Leo, and then the other people on her row. 

It felt even worse when she was standing up, her legs trembling and her heart racing, but she still thought she'd make it if she rushed. She ran down the stairs, and out into the lobby. 

The bathrooms weren't far, but another movie had let out recently, and Jemma could see there was a line. She joined it, pressing her thighs together tight. She chewed her lip, trying to keep her legs still, trying not to look like she was desperate to go. 

You can do this, she told herself. You're a big girl. 

But she couldn't. She felt another warm rush in her pull-up, entirely without her volition. Tears welled in her eyes, and her cheeks grew hot. There were people pressing around on all sides of her, and she wasn't going to make it. She didn't want to have an accident so close to other people. She pushed past them, stepping out of the crowded bathroom. She ducked her head down. It was quieter in the lobby, between the doors into different screens. She felt another trickle make its way into her pull-up, and she relaxed her muscles. 

She shut her eyes tight, wishing she was somewhere else, safe at home May and Coulson, or snuggling with Skye in front of a movie. She felt the pull-up swell between her legs. She brought her thumb to her mouth and nibbled on it, desperately trying to soothe herself. She worried the pull-up would leak. 

It grew heavy between her legs, and hot, and she was sure everyone could see what she'd done. She opened her eyes gingerly. No one was looking at her. And she couldn't feel any dampness on her legs, or see any stains on her clothes. She drew a shaky breath, shutting her eyes again, and rocked herself a little. 

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and startled, twisting anxiously. She couldn't cope with talking to anyone right now. 

But it was Coulson. 

She threw herself against him, hiding her face in his chest. She felt his arms go around her, warm and steady, and she burrowed into him. 

“Oh, baby girl,” he said softly, and she could feel his breath against his hair. She wanted to climb into his arms, to have him rock her like a baby. 

“I'm wet,” she whispered into his shirt. “I got wet.” 

“You had an accident?” he asked, stroking her back. 

She nodded. Her heart clenched. She was afraid, suddenly, that he'd be mad at her. 

But he just smoothed back her hair. “That's OK. It's no big deal.” He took her hand. “Come with me.”

“What about the movie?” She was ruining the movie for everyone. Jemma felt bad about that too. 

“Leo and Skye are looking after each other,” Coulson said. He led her past the crowds, and through the lobby, to another set of bathrooms. These were a lot quieter. There was a stall that said “Baby Changing” on its door, and Coulson opened it. 

“We can't go in here.” Jemma wasn't a baby. 

“Yes, we can.” Coulson tugged her inside, and she couldn't resist the pull of his hand. 

Jemma ducked her head. Her pull-up was growing cold, and felt squishy and uncomfortable. She wanted to be at home: she felt almost homesick, even though that was stupid, she hadn't been gone for a long. 

“Here.” Coulson pressed her dummy to her lips. Jemma opened her mouth and sucked it softly. She felt herself make a faint, needy noise in the back of her throat, and she reached for Coulson, desperate for another hug. 

He kissed her forehead, and began to undo her pants. “We need to get you dry.”

Jemma nodded. She let him take off her pants and her pull-up. It felt weird and exposed to be semi-naked in the bathroom, even with the door locked tight. She guessed at least it seemed fairly clean, but she definitely wanted another shower when she got home. 

She stepped into another pull-up without complaining. Coulson did up her pants for her. She clung to him, fisting her hand in his shirt. It did feel better to be dry. He pulled her close, rocking her, and that felt better too. 

“I have to take back your dummy,” Coulson said. “We've got to go back outside, in case someone else needs to use this stall.”

Jemma let him take the dummy out of her mouth. She felt her face crumpling: she wanted it back. Coulson was talking to her soothingly. “We'll go home after the movie, and then you can cuddle with me, and maybe you'd like a bottle. You can play some games with Leo, hmm, and you'll have a bath later...”

It helped to focus on the sound of his voice. Jemma clung to his hand. 

They went and sat on a couch across from the cinema where Maleficent was playing. “You're missing the movie,” Jemma said. She wanted to crawl into his lap and curl up, but she knew she couldn't do that here. She settled for leaning against him. 

“That's OK. I'm spending time with you.” 

Jemma thought he'd probably prefer to see the movie, but it was a nice thing to say. She shut her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder. Maybe he'd make her stay home on future trips, since she'd ruined this one. Her Mum had said she couldn't go shopping with her any more after she'd got overwhelmed in Debenham's one time. 

Her tummy still felt achey, and her head hurt. She wondered if she'd fall asleep. She hardly ever craved a bottle, but right now she imagined being in May's arms, her head on May's chest, as May held a bottle to her mouth. Her lips moved almost involuntarily, making little sucking motions. 

She felt Coulson stroke her cheek. “Oh, baby. You definitely need some quiet time.” 

She drifted for a while. Suddenly she felt someone flop down next to her. She felt herself grow stiff, but it was only Skye. “Are you OK?” Skye asked. And then in a much softer voice, “Did you have an accident? I did, too.” 

“Are we going to get ice cream now?” Leo asked. 

“Maybe you and I will get some together, later,” Coulson said. “These girls need to get home for a nap.” 

Leo didn't complain too much. He put his hand on Jemma's arm, leaning into her side. Coulson was on her other side, his hand in hers. Between them, she felt safe. 

*

May was still working when they got back. Skye asked if they could go and see her, but Coulson wouldn't let them. Skye had to hug Ada and her blanket tight to her chest when he told her that, but she let him change her diaper, and got into bed without complaining. Jemma lay down next to her, but her head hurt and her stomach felt tight, and it was hard to relax. She suckled her dummy, her eyes open, staring at nothing. 

Coulson stroked her forehead, soft. Jemma found herself whimpering a little. “I'm going to get you a bottle, sweetheart,” he told her. 

Skye already seemed half asleep. She snuggled closer to Jemma, and murmured, “It's OK, don't worry,” her breath too warm against Jemma's ear. Jemma reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. 

The bottle helped. She lay against Coulson's chest: she could hear his heart under her ear. The juice was cool in her mouth, and sucking helped to soothe her. She shut her eyes. Her headache seemed to recede. 

“Good girl,” Coulson murmured to her, fingers in her hair. He stayed with her until she was almost asleep: by the time he set her back down on the pillow, her eyes were closed, and she was barely aware of him leaving. 

She woke with her mouth dry again, and her bladder full. She didn't feel like she'd been asleep for long. Skye was curled into a ball next to her. Even asleep, she was clinging to her blanket. Jemma could see her eyes moving beneath their lids. She felt heavy all over. She shut her eyes, but she needed to pee too badly to get back to sleep. 

She sat up dizzily, swinging her legs out of bed. The air was cold. Her toes curled. Her tummy was tight, the pull-up warm between her legs. The bathroom seemed far away. If she had another accident, Coulson would take care of her. He'd know she was little and he'd rock her and soothe her and look after her. And right now, she didn't think she knew how to be big. 

She felt her cheeks growing hot with shame. How dare she even consider it, consider letting go like that? 

Her dummy was on her pillow. She groped for it, and popped it into her mouth. She hugged Ben. She felt her eyes grow wet again: she just wanted to curl back against Skye, she wanted this all to go away. 

At first, she couldn't relax. Her muscles clamped down tight. This was stupid: she should just go to the toilet. And then her bladder let out a little trickle. She felt herself letting go. It was warm, so warm it didn't even feel wet, and she felt so little, such a baby. She sucked her dummy slowly, relaxing, going limp. She flopped back down onto the pillow; she curled around Skye like Skye was her teddy-bear. The pull-up squished against her, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was OK. She was little. 

Jemma didn't go back to sleep, but she lay for a long time, somewhere between waking and dreaming, listening to Skye breathe. She felt far away, and small. Sunlight, grey and watery, came in through the curtains, and Jemma watched the long beam travel over the ceiling. Skye murmured in her sleep and nuzzled close, and Jemma stroked her warm back, the way Coulson comforted her. 

Eventually, her legs got stiff, and she was more awake than asleep. She shifted slowly. Her pull-up felt wet against her, and there was a cold patch on her leg. She reached down and touched it: she'd leaked, there was a cool, wet stain there. 

Disgusting. She was disgusting. She wanted to hide, but she also wanted Coulson, she wanted her Daddy, she wanted comfort. She slid out of bed, hugging Ben, and holding her pacifier tight in her hand. 

Coulson and Leo were playing X-Box. Leo was sitting at Coulson's feet, his head tilted sideways so he could lean it on Coulson's knee. They looked cute: Jemma wondered if she should disturb them. But Coulson spotted her. 

“Did you wake up, baby?”

Jemma nodded. She hid her face behind Ben's ears. Her pull-up felt big and cold between her legs. 

“Do you want to come sit with us?”

Jemma squirmed. “I, um... I...” She couldn't say it. 

Coulson looked at her appraisingly. Maybe he spotted the stain on her leg. But he said, “OK, let's get you dry.” 

Leo paused the game. Coulson petted his curls before gently moving his head from his lap. Coulson took Jemma's hand, and she was grateful for the comforting gesture. She followed him to the main bathroom. 

He helped her out of her wet pants and her pull-up. “It's been a tough day for you, hasn't it?” 

Jemma nodded. She popped her dummy back into her mouth. 

“Was it another accident?” Coulson's voice was gentle. 

Jemma shifted her weight. She hadn't really meant to wet herself, but it hadn't exactly been an accident either. She'd let it happen. 

“I just want to make sure you're not sick, sweetheart.” 

“I didn't want to go to the bathroom all by myself.” Jemma's voice was a little squeak. 

“That's OK.” Coulson handed her a baby-wipe, and she cleaned herself, looking at the floor. “When Skye wets two pull-ups in a row, it usually means she needs to be back in diapers for a while.” 

Jemma felt herself flush again. “I'm not a baby,” she whispered. 

“I know.” Coulson washed his hands. Jemma wriggled. The air was cold on her bottom. “I'm not going to make you wear a diaper if you don't want to.” 

“Do I have to use it?”

“Of course not. You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” 

Jemma nodded. “OK.” She stared hard at the floor between her feet. “Diaper.” 

Once she was dressed again, she curled up on the sofa next to Coulson and watched as he and Leo resumed their game. “Can we have a story?” she asked when they finished their level. 

Leo looked up at her. “ _The Phantom Tollbooth_?” he suggested. 

Jemma nodded. She was worried Leo was maybe angry with her for being so little, but he didn't seem cross. He went to get the book, and Jemma curled closer to Coulson, sucking her dummy while he held her. 

Leo sat on Coulson's other side, and after a moment, he snuggled against Coulson too, resting his head next to Jemma's on Coulson's chest. Jemma smiled. Leo was often shy about cuddling, but right now he seemed calm and relaxed, and it helped Jemma to feel calm too. 

Coulson flicked through the book. “Where were we? What part do you want to read?” 

They were still early in the book, on the part with the Doldrums. Jemma sat up a little so she could look at the pictures. She didn't think she remembered reading this story as a kid, and that made it more comforting. It didn't remind her of her childhood, it kept her present, here with Coulson, where she felt safe. 

When May came home, Jemma was instantly distracted. She and Leo both leapt up, and Jemma put her arms out for a hug. She remembered feeling afraid of May once, but that seemed was very far away now. She hid her face in May's neck, May's strong arms around her. 

“Did you kids have a good day?” May reached out to stroke Leo's cheek. 

Jemma hadn't, but she didn't want to say so. Leo shifted his weight. “We went to a movie.”

May nodded. “Is the baby sleeping?” she asked Coulson. 

“It's time to get her up now,” he said. 

“I'll go. You should finish your story.” 

Jemma didn't want May to leave her, but she settled down next to Coulson again anyway. Her diaper felt big under her, different and warmer than a pull-up. She wondered if May had noticed what she was wearing. May noticed most things. 

She wanted to cry, suddenly, and she didn't know why. She was here with Coulson and Leo, safe, and Skye and May would be back soon. She didn't know why she felt so full of emotion, why it was hard to breath. She pressed her face into Coulson's chest, trying to match her breaths with his. She didn't want to cry; she didn't want anyone to see her. She felt like there was a lake of emotions inside her, and she didn't know what do with them. She settled for clinging to Coulson and trying to listen to the story, listen only to the words as they followed one another. 

*

“Come with me, little girl,” May said. Jemma and Skye were sitting on the floor together, some Lego between them. Skye was always happy when she was playing, but sometimes it made Jemma miss the toys she'd had when she was little. The Sylvanian Families, with their fuzzy faces and tidy clothes. A teddy-bear with a little leather waist-coat. A basket full of tiny, perfect fruit. 

Jemma blinked up at May. They'd just had dinner, and it wasn't bedtime yet. 

“What about me?” Skye asked. 

“You keep playing,” May told her. 

Jemma knew that it wouldn't be so fun for Skye without someone else there, but Skye didn't complain. She was trying to build a spaceship. Maybe Leo would help her.

May brought Jemma to the bathroom: it was warm and steamy, the mirror damp with condensation. May had run a bath, full of bubbles. Their toy whale was floating on the surface, smiling its blue smile. 

They didn't often have time for baths.

“It will help you relax.” May helped Jemma out of her t-shirt.

Jemma was silent. She felt a little dizzy from the steam, and a overwhelmed by May's attention. She wanted to hide her face in May's chest, to sink to the floor. 

May undid Jemma's pants too. “Are you wet?”

Jemma shook her head. It was strange to be asked that question: it was one usually reserved for Skye. May took off her diaper too. “Do you need to pee?”

She did. She didn't often go with someone right there in the room, and if she did, it was usually Skye, but May didn't seem to be going anywhere, and anyway, Jemma didn't want to ask her to leave. 

May checked the temperature of the water while Jemma used the toilet. She had to go pretty bad: she hadn't want to interrupt her playtime. 

May seemed to notice that too “You shouldn't wait for so long, you know,” she said. “You can always ask us to bring you, if you don't want to go by yourself. Or use your diaper: that's what it's for.” 

Jemma chewed her lip. “I worry you'll be cross with me.” 

“Why?” 

Jemma felt shaky again. “I don't know. It's scary.” 

May touched her cheek. “Get in the bath before you get cold.” 

The water was just the right temperature: not so hot it would sting, but not cool either. Jemma sank down, but she couldn't relax. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, the bubbles getting in her hair. 

“I know it's scary to be little.” May stroked Jemma's neck. “We try to help as much as we can.”

“You help so much.” Jemma said, honestly. She leant into the touch. 

“If you need anything else, you just have to tell us.” 

Jemma shook her head. “I already need too much.” 

May made a soft, clicking sound with her tongue. “No, you don't.” She knelt by the bath and picked up the whale. She touched it to Jemma's nose, and a little shower of water ran over Jemma's lips and chin. Jemma spluttered.

“Try to relax, kid.” May kissed Jemma's temple. Then she lifted a handful of bubbles, and put them on Jemma's head. 

Jemma began to smile. “Is it a crown?”

“Looks more like a wig.” May put some bubbles on Jemma's chin too. “Now you have a beard.” 

“Am I a wizard?” 

“Maybe. A very small, cute wizard. Now lean back, I'll help you wash your hair.”

Jemma settled into the water. The warmth soothed her. She let May smooth down her hair, tip warm water over it. She shut her eyes. It was hard to relax: her tummy felt tight, her head sore, but it was also hard to be tense when wrapped in warmth, with May taking care of everything. 

When she was warm and sleepy and clean, May added some more hot water to the bath and said, “I'm going to give Skye a wash too. She always needs it.” 

It was true: of the two of them, Skye was the one who ended up with food in her long hair, and wearing diapers meant she needed to wash more often. 

“You can stay here if you like.” 

Jemma nodded. She shut her eyes, leaning into the warmth, not feeling ready to emerge into the world. 

Skye accidentally splashed her when she sat down in the other end, and immediately started playing with the whale. If you tried to push the whale underwater, it would pop right back up again, usually with a big splash. 

“What if we got bubbles in your hair too, Mommy?” Skye asked, as May wet Skye's hair. 

“Then you'd be in big trouble.” But from the way May was smiling, Jemma didn't think Skye would really be in that much trouble. Skye didn't risk it though. She obediently let May clean her hair and wash her back. 

“You're getting a rash on your bottom again, baby,” May said. “You need to tell us when you're wet.” 

Skye squirmed. She brought her thumb to her mouth, and but tugged it away again because it was damp and covered with bubbles. “I get embarrassed.” 

May sighed. She looked between Skye and Jemma. “You girls need to work on this. I'm going to set you up with a star chart, so you get a sticker every time you tell us you need the bathroom or that you're wet.” 

Jemma felt herself flush. The idea was so embarrassing she wanted to hide under the water. It almost made her need to sat no, to tell May she just couldn't. But at the same time, it sounded kind of nice to know it was always OK to ask, that she'd even get a sticker if she told them she was wet, she wouldn't get in trouble at all. 

Skye looked anxious too, but she said, “Do we get a prize?” 

“I'll have to talk it over with Phil.” Both girls knew that basically meant yes. 

Skye popped the whale under the water, then looked at Jemma as it splashed back up. “OK?” she asked. 

Jemma nodded. 

“Come on out now, Jemma,” May said. “You're turning into a raisin.” 

It was hard to step out of the wonderful warmth of the bath, but May had a towel ready for her, and she wrapped Jemma up in her arms. 

*

It came when she'd almost forgotten about it. Almost. It was wrapped in brown paper, creased from travel, and addressed to their PO Box in her mother's handwriting. 

The writing was so familiar. The swoop of the J, the capital Es in the middle of words. It went straight through her: she felt her teeth clench, her heart pound. 

It was the middle of a working day. The box was in the shared kitchen, on the table along with some other letters. She couldn't open it right now; she couldn't deal with it right now. 

Except instead of getting a cup of tea and going back to the lab, she sat down on the chair by the box and began to cry. She covered her eyes with her hand and tried to hold her breath, but she couldn't see anything except her Mother's handwriting, the old kitchen table at home, being a small girl and hiding in the cupboard under the sink. 

She was pretty sure she hadn't always been such a cry-baby. She couldn't remember collapsing under tears before, or not like this, not so often. Her shoulders shook. Stop it, stop it, stop it, she whispered to herself. You're embarrassing yourself. You're a disgrace. 

Telling herself off just made her want to cry more. “Jemma, get back to work,” she said firmly. “Get it together.”

“...Maybe you need a break?”

It was Skye's voice. Jemma was grateful: it was less humiliating to be seen by Skye than by anyone else. 

Jemma didn't know how to reply. She whimpered, and covered her mouth with her hand. Then Skye was next to her, and Skye put her hand on Jemma's cheek. 

“Is it the box? We can throw it away.”

“No!” Jemma grabbed the parcel and held it to her chest. “Oh, no.” She coughed, trying to hide her tears, but another sob came out anyway, rough and raw. 

“OK.” Skye's voice was gentle. She put her arm around Jemma's shoulder. “Then I think we need our dragon fort.”

They made a nest, sometimes, between the bed and the wall, propping the bed sheets up on chairs so they were in a tent. It felt very safe in their, quiet and close. Skye claimed they were dragons, and it was their fort. 

Jemma wasn't sure it was the answer. But she looked up at Skye, and nodded quickly. 

She took the brown paper off the box while Skye was making their fort. She sat at the edge of the bed, Ben on her lap for courage. She eased her fingers under the brown tape and pulled it free. Once it was off, the shoebox looked more comforting, more familiar. It said “Nike” on it, and under that, “PRIVATE”, in big, childish letters. She thought about her Mother going through it, and it made her stomach twist. 

“Is it a secret?” Skye asked. 

“Not from you.” Jemma bit her lip. She shoved the box towards Skye: “You open it.” 

Skye looked surprised, but she just nodded, gently lifting the shoebox onto her lap. 

Inside, was Jemma's childhood: a couple of Puffin paperbacks, a selection of finger-puppets her grandmother had knitted for her, a set of koala Sylvanian families, plastic horses, a fairy, a Rubik's cube, a small bear in dungarees, some note-books. A pair of gloves. 

Nothing; junk. Rubbish, like her mother had said. 

Skye carefully lifted out the bear, then the finger-puppets. She looked at their little faces. “A cow, a fireman, a pilot... Look, a scientist. Is this one you?” 

Jemma felt something like a smile. “It could be.” 

“Do they have names?”

“They did. I don't know if I remember them all. The bear is just called Little Bear.” 

Skye passed the bear to Jemma. “I like her pants.” 

“Can we take these into the fort?” 

“Of course.” Skye replaced the toys in the box, and brought it onto the floor with her. They crawled into the tent together. 

Jemma held her bear. She looked at the puppets on Skye's fingers: the scientist, the fox, Robin Hood, and one she'd forgotten: a smiling cactus. Why had her grandmother made her a cactus?

She started to cry again, with no warning. She hid her face in the pillow. “I'm a mess. I'm so sorry.”

“No apologies in the dragon fort,” Skye said. 

“My Nan made them.” Jemma gestured to the puppets. “She died when I was six. And then nobody loved me.”

The words came out all at once, and her voice was steady, like it wasn't a big deal. But it was a big deal. Her eyes felt raw from crying. 

Skye put her arms around Jemma. “Everyone should love you,” she said. Her voice trembled. “Everyone.” 

“You too, Skye.” Jemma's mouth was pressed into Skye's shoulder. “You too.” 

“We're not alone now.” Skye was almost in Jemma's lap, and Jemma's face was hidden in Skye's neck. “We were alone, but now we're not.” 

“I know.” Jemma clung to Skye until she stopped trembling. She wasn't even sure which of them was trembling. One of them was. 

After a while, she drew back. Skye's face was blotchy with tears too. Jemma touched her cheek. She hated it when Skye cried: she just wanted Skye to be happy. “Oh, baby,” she whispered. She thought about how much harder it had been for Skye than it had ever been for her, and that made her stomach clench again. She didn't say anything. 

Instead, she tugged the fairy out of the box. “She used to really fly once you wound her up. And if she doesn't now, I'm sure Leo can fix her...”

*

“I've been looking for you.”

It was May's voice. Jemma and Skye had been making a castle for the koalas with some Lego. They both froze. It was working day; they'd lost track of time. They weren't supposed to be here. 

Jemma peeked out, but she was too scared to look up at May's face. She looked at her boots instead. “I'm sorry. I was my fault.”

“No.” Skye looked out too. “I was the one who said it was time to make a dragon fort.” 

May squatted down next to them. Suddenly she was on their level instead of standing overheard. She didn't look especially mad. 

“I've never found you here before when you're supposed to be working. What happened?”

“I...” But Jemma couldn't put it into words. She looked at Skye. 

Skye crawled out of the fort so she could sit next to May. She still had the puppets on the fingers of one hand: the scientist and the cow. She brought the thumb of her other hand to her lips and sucked it quickly. Then she took it out and said, “Jemma had a parcel from her Mum. It made her really sad so I thought she should come in here where it's safe.” 

May looked at Jemma for confirmation. Jemma nodded, even though it sounded even more pathetic now. 

“It sounds like you made the right decision,” May said. She touched Jemma's cheek. “Are you going to come out too, kid?”

Jemma crawled after Skye. “Really? You're not cross?”

“Am I ever cross with you for having feelings?” May asked. 

Jemma shook her head. Her heart had been racing: now it slowed down, and she felt limp and tired. She wondered if it would be OK to crawl into May's lap. May put her hand on Jemma's cheek, tilting Jemma's face upwards so she could look at her searchingly. Jemma nearly flinched under May's calm gaze. 

“Come here,” May said. “I think you need to be my baby today.” 

Jemma nodded. She didn't argue. She relaxed, letting May be in charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it only took me six months to update this! 
> 
> I don't know if you have Sylvanian Families in the US, but they were a big part of my [and Jemma's] childhood. They are a cute and versatile toy: [pics here](http://www.sylvanianstorekeepers.com/sylvanian-families-babies).
> 
> Also, please check out this wonderful art by propriety_is_not_a_priority, which you can find [here](http://prygelknabe.tumblr.com/image/111602549453)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's feeling extra little today. Please note this deals in detail with menstruation, so avoid this chapter if that's a problem for you. :)

Jemma looked at the red spot in her knickers. 

For a second she thought maybe she was dying. And then she remembered about periods and how she was a big girl and grown-up things happened to her. 

Except she didn't feel like she could cope with it right now. She'd had so much work to do and now she just wanted Mommy and Daddy and to be little. Her tummy hurt and she thought maybe she was really dying, because why else did her tummy hurt so much? 

You're being stupid, she told herself firmly. Grow up, Jemma. She hadn't felt very grown-up all day, even though she'd been running the lab, and she'd had to make sensible decisions. She liked the lab: the rules and order. She was good at her job. But at the same time it had been stressful, and she'd drunk too much tea, and she'd felt very squirmy all the time, and she hadn't gone to the loo often enough, so there'd been leaks in her knickers when she finally made it. 

That had made her feel little too. She wanted to cry. She'd been waiting all day to be little, and now she could finally relax, she was confronted with grown-up stuff. And she had to be sensible. 

But she didn't find a tampon or a pad. She did everything wrong. She just flushed the toilet and pulled her knickers back up, pretending she had never seen the spot. 

*

Skye was in the living room, watching TV. She was wearing big girl clothes: jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, and she had her phone in one hand. Mommy took her phone away when she was little, so she definitely wasn't there yet. But at the same time, she didn't really look big either. 

“Long day?” Skye asked, turning the sound down on the TV. 

“Mm.” Jemma sat beside her. She desperately wanted a hug and to tell Skye about her sore tummy, but she felt too anxious to do either thing. 

“May and Coulson are debriefing. They said they didn't need me.” Skye nibbled her thumb. “We had a lot to do, but we got the intel.”

“Good.” Jemma had almost forgotten about Skye's mission. She'd been so busy all day. Her mind was full of statistics and formulae. 

“We're allowed to have a break now.” Skye yawned a little. “Hopefully for the weekend, too.” 

Jemma hugged herself, but she didn't feel better. She couldn't find a comfortable position. She wanted to be excited about the weekend, but she just feel sore and tired. 

Skye watched her wriggling. 

After a moment she said, “I can go with you to the bathroom, Jems, if you want.” 

“I've just been.” And Jemma flushed. She was too big to need someone to come with her anyway, especially Skye, who was definitely littler. She tried to stop moving. 

“Maybe I need a hug?” Jemma suggested. Her voice sounded very small. It was so hard to have words for that, but Skye smiled and put her arm around Jemma's shoulders. Jemma leant against Skye's chest. She tried to relax completely, but every time she felt herself drifting, she was reminded of her sore tummy. 

Skye leant her chin on the top of Jemma's head. Jemma knew she could only do that because she was slumped down against Skye, but it still made her feel littler. She felt Skye's breath against her hair. She wanted her dummy, but she didn't want to have to get up and find it. 

“Should we watch cartoons?” 

The TV was showing a police procedural. Jemma definitely didn't feel up to that. She nodded. “Something safe.” 

*

May was taking ages. Skye seemed sleepy, her eyes glazed over, and her thumb was in her mouth now. She'd put her big boots up on the sofa which Jemma knew wasn't allowed. 

Jemma's tummy clenched tight, and she felt a dampness between her legs, sticky and uncomfortable. She felt small and sore, and she just wanted Mommy. She knew there were things she was supposed to do: put on a pad, maybe, and take some painkillers. But it felt so complicated and she was so little. 

She poked Skye. “Is Mommy coming soon?” 

Skye sighed. “I hope so.” 

The cartoon was boring. Jemma pressed her face into Skye's shoulder. Skye still smelt grown-up: like oil and wind and leather. Not her usual scent of baby-power and honey. Jemma didn't like it: she wanted to be in bed with Skye, looking at the bright shapes the night light sent scattering over the ceiling, and to know Mommy was right there if she needed her. 

She sniffled against Skye. Her tummy cramped up again, worse than before. It felt like someone was stabbing her from the inside. She felt sick from how much it hurt, and she felt herself begin to whimper. She was too little to deal with this. She felt small, spots dancing in front of her eyes, the pain a white knife inside. 

Before she knew it, she was crying. 

She felt Skye pet her, little gentle touches, but it didn't feel like May or Coulson. Skye wasn't a grown-up, and she needed her dummy and knickers were wet and maybe she was dying, and she couldn't stop crying now that she'd begun. 

Skye patted her. “Jemma, Jemma, don't cry, I don't know how to help.”

“Want Mommy,” Jemma whispered. 

“I know. I want her too.” 

“Get her.” Jemma's voice came out all choked and snotty, but Skye understood. 

“She told me to wait here.”

Jemma whimpered. Her tummy clenched, hot and red, and she felt so small. Her thighs burnt, and her back, and there was a sick feeling in her throat. She peeked up at Skye. Skye looked pale, and her eyes were damp too. 

Oh no, Jemma thought. You're not allowed to cry… 

She hid her face, and her tummy clenched up and she felt like maybe she needed a wee too, and it was all too much. She didn't want to cry, she knew it was hard for Skye, but she couldn't stop it. 

*

She didn't think too much time had passed when May finally found them, but it felt like forever. 

“What happened?” 

Jemma heard May's voice and she untangled herself from Skye and reached for Mommy. May sat down and Jemma buried herself against her, her face against Mommy's chest, her eyes shut tight. She breathed in, smelling Mommy's soft scent, feeling her heart under her cheek. 

She was embarrassed: she didn't usually cling like this. But that feeling was far away. She was just so little and so sore. 

She could hear Mommy talking with Skye, but she didn't try to make out the words. 

May smoothed back the hair from Jemma's face. “What can I do to help, baby?” 

Jemma didn't know. “Dummy?” she asked after a moment. 

“Of course.”

Then May was trying to move away, and it made Jemma whimper again. No, no, no, no, she wanted to shout like a toddler. Want you. Don't move. 

“I'm going to get your dummy, and you girls need to get changed. Then we can cuddle all evening if you like.” 

It made sense, but it was still hard to let go. 

*

Jemma sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Ben, dummy in her mouth. Her tummy was so sore, and she felt weak, her thighs and back trembling. 

Skye was wet, and so May was changing her. “I wish you wouldn't sit so long in a wet pull-up,” May was saying. 

Skye didn't reply. Jemma wondered what May would say about her wet knickers. 

May left Skye in just a diaper and a t-shirt. Skye didn't seem to mind. Jemma watched as she wriggled on the bed until she found her blanket on the bed, and held it against her cheek, snuggling up small. She made little cooing sounds to herself, and she was so sweet and little: it made Jemma feel disgusting. She was a big girl and she was only pretending to be small, and May was going to see the blood and think she was icky. She was going to tell Jemma to go back to work and to stop whining. 

May gently dried the tears on Jemma's cheeks, rubbing them with cool thumbs. “What's got you so sad, little one?” 

Jemma turned her face away. She lay down on the bed like Skye did, when she was going to be changed. She still kind of needed a wee. She hoped Mommy would understand, that she'd make Jemma dry and clean and wouldn't be angry. But she was afraid. 

“Let's get you in your pyjamas too. Do you want a diaper or a pull-up today?”

Jemma sucked her dummy. She didn't look at May, she as too scared. Her tummy clenched inside her, hot and bright with pain. 

May sighed and undid Jemma's trousers. Jemma lifted her hips so May could pull them down. The blood hadn't soaked through them, but from the soft sound May made, Jemma guessed it was on the outside of her knickers now too. 

“Poor baby,” May said. She put her cool hand on Jemma's tummy. “Does it hurt?”

Jemma wanted to say yes, but instead she found herself whimpering, “I'm bad.”

“That's not true, Jemma.” May helped her out of her knickers, and then Jemma heard the rustle of the baby wipes being opened. They felt cool against Jemma's skin, but soothing too. Jemma sighed. “You'll feel better soon.” 

Jemma was glad when May put a diaper on her without asking. It felt safe, it was exactly what she needed, and she was glad she didn't have to tell May. She dressed Jemma in soft pyjamas, and said, “Why don't we cuddle in bed for a while?” 

Mommy hardly ever let them watch TV in bed, but she put it on now, and then she left the room. Jemma felt her heart lurch, and her tummy, which had been soothed somehow, went tight again. 

Skye took her hand. “Mommy's coming back,” she said. “I'm sorry you're sore, Jemma.” 

And May did: she came back with two bottles filled with cool water, and painkillers for Jemma. 

*

Jemma wet her nappy while she was drinking from the bottle. She didn't think it'd ever happened so easily before. She just felt her body relax, and then she was warm. She leant into Mommy, softly sucking her bottle, listening to Mommy's heart. 

Skye was holding her own bottle for once, but she was snuggled up against Mommy's other side. They were watching a show for really little kids with shapes and colours and soft music, but that was OK by Jemma. For once it wasn't boring: it just felt nice. 

Then her tummy clenched up again, and she felt sick from how much it hurt. She pressed her face into May's side. “Fix it,” she murmured. 

Mommy stroked her cheek. “The pain-killers will kick in soon.”

“Don't want to have a period.” Jemma squirmed. “I'm too little.” 

Skye made a little sound and stopped sucking her bottle. “Me too,” she said. “But it still happens.” 

Jemma squeezed Ben. “Makes me feel like I need to be big.” 

Skye nodded. “It only happens to grown-ups.” 

“That's not true.” May's voice was firm. “It happens to you, and you're both my little ones.” 

*

Later, Phil took Skye and Leo out to get ice-cream, and maybe play in the park while it was quiet. After dinner, they'd both woken up and were too lively to settle down without an activity before bed. Jemma stayed with May, curled up with her on the sofa. 

She hadn't felt like dinner, but now she was nibbling ginger cookies. May was usually strict about food, but she didn't say anything. Jemma had apple juice in her sippy cup. 

Jemma felt weak and floppy, like someone had taken all her bones away. But she didn't hurt so much any more, and that was the important thing. 

“Would you like a bath?” May asked, and Jemma realised that she would. 

The warm water helped. Jemma felt light and far away. But she could see the blood between her legs, and that made her feel icky. 

“I don't always know how to be a big person,” Jemma said. She was scared and small. She felt like she'd pretending so hard to be a grown-up for so long, and now she'd forgotten how. 

“That's OK,” May said. She rubbed the warm cloth over Jemma's shoulders, and Jemma began to relax. “How many times do I need to tell you? There's nothing wrong with being the way you are.” 

Jemma concentrated on May's touch, and tried to believe her.


End file.
